


Flesh and Bone

by Black_jay



Series: Churning Waters [2]
Category: The Last of Us
Genre: Alternate Ending, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, tagged F/F but basically Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:41:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25321825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Black_jay/pseuds/Black_jay
Summary: “Do you regret it?”Abby makes no motion to acknowledge that she heard her. She’s silent for so long that Ellie almost asks again.“No.”Ellie didn't expect different, but she still hoped, however useless it was, that she did, that shemadeher regret it.Or: Ellie gets captured by the Rattlers and realizes that if she wants to escape alive, she needs to learn to cooperate with the very woman she has been hunting.
Relationships: Abby & Ellie (The Last of Us), Mentioned Dina/Ellie (the Last of Us)
Series: Churning Waters [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1834117
Comments: 12
Kudos: 108





	Flesh and Bone

**Author's Note:**

> I can't promise that everything here is 100% correct according to canon, but I tried, because man, the words did not come easy for this one. I certainly had to take some liberties on how exactly the Rattlers worked, so this is my version at least.
> 
> (Hopefully) Enjoy!

Ellie wakes from her bloodlet stupor to the distant sound of footsteps and scornful laughter.

She tries to blink the fuzziness from her vision, seeing two blurry silhouettes approaching her. “Abby. I’ve found you… I’ve found you.”

“Man, this bitch is _fucked up.”_

She hits the ground with a grunt, gasping for breath as blood pools under her. Black spots dance in front of her eyes as the blood rushes from her head- hanging upside down for hours will do that to you.

“We'll be lucky if she even lasts a month.” The man scoffs, roughly grabbing her leg and tugging the rope from her ankle.

Ellie’s face contorts into a grimace and she presses her hand against the wound on her side. _Fuck._

“Just _please_ tell me we can be done for the day now.”

“Yeah, just reset the traps and we can be done with this.” 

The one with a ponytail and sunglasses rolls her over with his foot, leaning over to pat her down for weapons.

“I mean, is she even worth the trip back?” The other guy continues, walking backward, obviously not paying attention to where he’s going. “I mean, it’s not like-”

The clicker hanging in the trap next to her screeches to life, clawing at him, sending him jumping away with a scream not unlike one of a little girl.

Ellie can’t help but giggle to herself, half of it because of the blood loss, the other half just to make him mad.

“Something funny?” He asks, rubbing at his (sadly) unscratched arm.

“Looks like you shit your pants,” she says, lips quivering into a weak smile, slowly getting her arms under her despite the stabbing pain in her side.

“The fuck you say?”

She laughs again. “What a little bitch.”

“Oh, you like funny, huh?” He kicks her in the side and Ellie can barely choke back a scream.

“Hey hey,” Ponytail guy says, coming between them. “Let’s just get her back, you can kick her all you want then.”

The man says something else but Ellie can’t hear it over the ringing in her ears.

The last thing she sees before everything goes dark is a boot lifting from the dirt and swinging towards her face.

**Day 1** ****

“Fuck,” she gasps, trying to jerk upright but the searing pain in her gut stops that idea immediately. She rolls onto her side, doubling over and dry-heaving.

She can vaguely hear voices murmuring overhead but it feels like she has cotton stuck in her ears. Cold sweat drips from her brow. Her vision swims but she can make out a grimey floor underneath her hands, little specks of dirt and gravel digging into her palm. She focuses on the sensation if only to take her mind off the fact that every time she breathes it feels like she’s being stabbed by that tree-trap all over again.

“...e’s awake.”

Someone crouches beside her, putting a hand on her forehead. She slaps their arm away, turning to face them.

“Jesus, sorry, just trying to make sure you’re not dying,” the woman says, shuffling back. She looks to be in her late thirties, wearing what probably used to be a white blouse, but is caked in so much dirt that it might as well be brown.

Ellie squints, surveying the rest of the room’s occupants. Scratch that- everyone looks like they’ve been wearing the same clothes for weeks.

“Where am I?” Ellie rasps.

A man standing above her quirks a brow. “You don’t know? You not from around here, kid?”

Ellie shakes her head, wincing when it sends her world spinning.

“We’re at the Rattler’s settlement, hun,” the woman says.

Usually she’d punch someone for calling her ‘hun’ but this lady seems relatively nice, and besides, she’s kind of stuck on the name “Rattlers”. That's the stupidest name she’s ever heard. “Who the hell are the Rattlers?”

“A bunch of assholes-”

“Daniel!” The woman barks, immediately shutting the man- Daniel, up. He grumbles but stays silent.

“They… run this place.”

“Yeah, they keep us as _slaves,”_ Daniel spits out. The woman sends him a glare but doesn't deny it.

It’s then that Ellie notices that they’re in a big barred cell, sleeping bags and oil lanterns scattered across the floor. Great. This is fan-fucking-tastic. Her head fucking hurts.

“They threw you in here a few minutes ago,” the woman says. 

“And who are you?” Ellie asks, too dizzy to care that she probably sounded rude. 

“Oh- I’m Lucia.”

Ellie hums, her eyes drifting back to the wound in her side under her blood-coated tank top. She pulls it up to see; someone stitched her up, not great but it’ll work. She lightly traces a hand over the thread before sitting up completely, suddenly remembering what she's trying to do.

“Abby. Is she here?” It’s not impossible- they could've ambushed her or strung her up like her, but they better not have killed her. She’d be pissed if she was killed by these bitches.

Lucia blinks. “She is, actually, but she’s out right now, do you know her?”

“Uh, kind of,” Ellie says, rubbing a hand over her forehead. “And what exactly do they expect from us here?”

“Well, we work in shifts you see…”

Ellie tunes her out. She really doesn't care what hours she’s going to be planting tomatoes, because she doesn't plan on doing so. Though she doesn't know what she’s going to do when she sees Abby again, she doubts the “Rattlers” or whatever the fuck they’re called would take to kindly to her killing one of their “slaves”- or maybe it will be the opposite and they won’t care, and in that case she’s free to-

“Hello? Anyone home?”

Ellie blinks back into awareness- Lucia and Daniel are staring at her.

“Uh sorry, what?”

“I asked what your name is, hun.”

“Oh, um, Ellie.” She grimaces again. Why is it so hard to think?

“Ellie,” Lucia repeats, smiling rather forcefully- but she appreciates the effort. She shifts so Ellie can see behind her. “There's an open sleeping bag right there,” she says, gesturing to the closest one to her left. It’s rumpled and half-open like it hasn’t been touched since it’s last occupant left. She tries not to think of the connotations of that.

“They probably won’t send you out until tomorrow, to let you… sleep that off.” Lucia vaguely waves at her stitches. “There’s a basket of clothes over there, just dig around till you find something that fits.”

“... Thanks,” Ellie says.

Suddenly, a guard bangs on the metal bars with a baton. More than half the room lets out a collective flinch. 

“Next shift!” the guard calls, monotone and bored.

Lucia pulls a face. “That would be us. Just settle in, I’ll check up on you later.” Daniel muffles a snort, rolling his eyes and heading for the now open gate, grabbing a jacket on his way out. 

“What’s his problem?” Ellie asks.

Lucia just sighs and shakes her head, and with a final small smile in Ellie’s direction, follows him.

Once the other prisoners file out, the cell is empty except for her and a man leaning against the far wall, eyes closed. She might have thought he’s dead if it weren’t for the subtle rise and fall of his chest. 

Finally feeling that she won’t pass out the second she moves, she drags herself to the basket of clothes, trying to find a shirt that both fits _and_ doesn't smell like a neglected stable, which is harder than she thought. Finally she settles on a plain grey T-shirt that doesn't look like it’s been worn _too_ many times and peels her tank top off, flakes of blood coming with it. She scrunches her nose up at the smell as she pulls the shirt on. Better than being coated by her own blood, she tells herself. 

She drags the sleeping bag back so the head is by the wall and sits on it, leaning back against the concrete. She checks her shoe: the knife is gone. Not that she really expected otherwise. 

She fiddles with a small stone she found, staring at the guard stationed outside the bars. She barely refrains from throwing it at him.

Instead, she grinds it against the floor, hoping to sharpen it to a point. It won’t be much, but it’ll be better than nothing.

It doesn't take long for the other group of prisoners to get tossed back in. Ellie scans over them one-by-one, all of them are covered in a thin film of dirt and sweat.

She spots the kid first. He’s one of the last in, talking to someone over his shoulder. Ellie tightens her grip on the rock as Abby trudges in behind him, but she blinks in surprise when she sees her clearly. She’s lost a lot of weight since she last saw her (that shouldn't be surprising based on the conditions of the other prisoners here, but somehow it is) and her braid must have been hacked off because her hair is short and choppy.

Abby doesn't notice her at first, just enters the cell with a parting glare at the guard and follows the kid to two sleeping bags in the far corner of the room.

The kid notices her, though, and he freezes, staring at her for a moment before leaning over to whisper something to Abby. Abby furrows her eyebrows and looks towards her. Ellie stiffens the moment they make eye contact. 

For a moment she thinks Abby is just going to turn away and ignore her, but she quickly disproves that theory when, after a moment of consideration, she slowly approaches her, not unlike how one would approach a dangerous but trapped animal.

“It’s you.”

Ellie stares up at Abby. 

“... Yeah.”

The kid stands behind her protectively, but looks a little lost without his bow. 

Ellie clutches the rock tighter.

“They get you too?”

 _What a stupid question._ “Something like that.”

Ellie notices a few of the other prisoners watching them warily out of the corner of their eyes.

Abby bites the inside of her cheek, unspoken words sitting at the back of her throat. “I’m done, okay? I’m not doing this anymore.”

Ellie blinks. That's… not what she expected her to say.

Abby shuffles in front of her for another moment, almost nervously, before turning away without another word. The kid shoots her one last, long look before following Abby.

Ellie watches her with a strange mixture of curiosity and loathing. She looks defeated, beaten down, and she can’t bring herself to confront her right now.

 _Later_ , she tells herself.

**Night 1**

She weighs the sharpened rock in her hand, smearing her palms with the grey dust.

It’s hard to tell night from day in this cell, she’s found- it always seems to have the same amount of dim grunginess to it. The only difference is that the far hallways branching off from hers are dark, but the immediate one the cell is attached to seems to be just as bright now as it was during the day. The ever-burning oil lanterns are the only light source from inside the cell, casting dark shadows across the cracked concrete walls.

Her eyes are fixated on Abby’s sleeping form on the other side of the cell- or at least, she appears to be sleeping. Ellie knows she’s far from the only one awake right now, even though it must be well past midnight. 

She could easily, almost too easily, drive this rock through Abby’s skull. She seems weakened, and she’s pretty sure that, even injured as she is, she could take the kid in a fistfight. So what's stopping her?

She has the feeling that killing her right now wouldn’t bring the satisfaction she wants- no, _needs._

She needs Abby to fight back.

**Day 4**

It's during the third day of painstakingly planting tomato seeds that the routine finally breaks.

She watches as the man from before- Daniel, is dragged through the potato fields in front of her, kicking and spitting.

“Fuck you all, fuck your fucking potatoes, fuck your-”

One of the Rattlers clocks him on the side of his head, cutting him short. “Shut the hell up.” She turns to the man who has his other arm, having some wordless exchange that ends with them both grinning cruelly. 

Daniel regains his bearings and screams when he sees where they’re leading him, though Ellie doesn't know why anything different.

“That’s why you don’t act out,” Lucia says to her right. “They’ll make an example out of you.”

“What are they doing?”

A grimace contorts her face. “Just look.”

Daniel thrashes against the arms holding him, but to no avail. The surrounding guards jeer as they bring him to one of the infected they use as glorified guard dogs and grab his forearm, pulling it towards the chained infected. He digs his heels into the ground but the Rattler just kicks him forward, and Daniel screams as the infected tears into his outstretched arm before they yank him back.

“Yeah, ya like that?” the guard taunts, dragging him by his shoulders to a set of unused chains behind them, the other one following with a sneer.

“That's fucked.” Ellie murmurs as they snap a metal collar around his throat, pulling at the chain to make sure it’s secured.

She turns back to the dirt in front of her, not caring to see him turn, flicking a tomato seed into a little hole she made with her pinky. She doesn't put much care into planting the seeds, the less that grow the better, really.

There's the sound of a foot colliding with flesh and Daniel whimpers.

She glances at Abby, who is crouched a few rows behind her with the kid. They haven't said a word to each other since that first day, but that's fine. More than fine, really- that way, when she inevitably escapes, she can end it there. Talking with her will only make things more complicated.

Abby said she’s done, and so far, she’s held that promise, much to Ellie’s annoyance. Abby doesn't spare her more glances than anyone else, which is starting to grate on her.

She _wants_ her to be angry, for her to want revenge like she does, that would make everything so much _easier._ She wants the kid to hate her too, or get out of her way, but he seems to do whatever Abby does, which at the moment, is nothing.

Ellie breaths in a sharp sigh, stitches pulling at her skin, glaring down at the tomato seeds in front of her, the sounds of the guards beating Daniel echoing through the fields.

**Day 5**

A police-vested guard struts around in front of her like he owns the place, kicking dirt up into her face. A German Shepherd paws at the ground at his side, sniffing it curiously. To think, she used to _like_ dogs.

She scowls at him, wiping the dirt from her nose. She eyes the submachine gun strapped to his back, only an arms-length away. She could totally-

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Ellie almost startles. _Almost._ She turns her head to see Abby, schooling the surprise from her face into a mask of indifference. “Do what?”

Abby doesn't look at her, keeping her eyes on the back of her hands, yet somehow manages to project an air of _I’m better than you._ “ _That_. Taking the gun. Do you even know your way out of here?”

 _No._ “And what, you do?” she snorts.

“Maybe I do,” Abby deadpans.

Ellie glares at her. “Then why haven't you left?”

Abby scoffs humorlessly. “We’ve tried.” She leaves it at that.

The sudden jangle of heavy chains and the snarling of infected jerks her attention to the closest of many stakes that infected are tied to.

It’s Daniel, or what's left of Daniel, snarling and grabbing at a passing guard, the steel collar around his neck digging into his skin. Black veins pop out from under his almost translucent skin and blood drips from his mouth- there's no one around he could have chewed on so it must be his own blood; he probably bit his tongue off. 

Ironic, really, considering he was turned as punishment for his big mouth.

**Night 7**

Ellie scratches at the concrete with the rock, the dust giving the effect of chalk. She sketches out messy lines that somehow start to look like Dina and JJ.

She drops it with a sigh, letting the rock clatter to the ground.

Hopefully they're doing alright. She’d never forgive herself if something happened to them while she’s gone. She wonders when- no _if_ , she gets to see them again, will Dina throw her out? Ellie can’t go back to Jackson, she just _can’t._ Too many memories. Maybe it would be better for Dina if she never came back at all.

_Then prove it._

Ellie grinds the heel of her hand against her forehead. She’s thinking too much. 

**Day 15**

Ellie is carrying out today’s _exciting_ task (unearthing potatoes) when a shadow falls over her.

She tenses, expecting it to be a guard on a power trip here to kick the shit out of her, but she looks up in surprise when someone crouches in front of her, busying himself.

It’s the kid- Lev, Abby called him.

He’s silent for a moment, keeping his head down, before he speaks. “Why are you here?”

Ellie blinks. “... Because I got captured?”

He shoots her an unimpressed look, finally looking her in the eye. “No, why are you _here?_ Seattle too is far away to just… be here. Did you track us down?”

She feels no need to lie. “... Yeah. I did.”

His gaze hardens. “I’m not going to let you hurt Abby again.”

She doesn't like how he says her name, like it’s something _good._ She struggles to bite back a comment about how _Abby_ was the one to start this, but she knows it wouldn't do any good to argue. This kid doesn't know anything.

Instead, she nods slowly. “Noted.”

The kid watches her for a second, she's not sure if it’s supposed to be threatening or not- if it is, he’s not doing a very good job- and he pushes himself up, heading back down the row of potato plants.

She sighs. 

**Night 18**

_“Ellie! Help me!”_

_She leaps down the stairs three at a time, chipping the paint from them. The farther she runs the longer the stairway seems to be, spanning far below her._

_“Joel!”_

_She can’t stop so she slams heavily against the door, the wood reverberating its protests and her shoulder flares up in pain but she can’t think, can’t feel, can’t, can’t-_

_Joel screams again and the wet sound of a golf club colliding with his head sounds from behind the door._

_She desperately fumbles with the doorknob but she can’t seem to get a grip, her hands slip off of the metal like they’re covered in oil, she can’t get in-_

She gasps for breath, eyes flying open. She’s greeted with the shadowed, stained ceiling.

Swallowing heavily, she presses her hand to her chest, feeling her rapid breaths and erratic heart. 

“ _Fuck,”_ she whispers to herself, squeezing her eyes shut, tears pricking at the corners. She stays like that until her breathing calms down, then slowly sits up, resting her elbows on her knees.

Her hair hangs over her face, pasted to her forehead with sweat. She wipes her brow with the back of her hand. She suddenly sees movement out of the corner of her eye. Abby is sitting up as well, picking at her fingernails and looking her way.

“What the fuck are you looking at,” Ellie mutters, loud enough for Abby to hear but not so loud that it wakes the other prisoners.

Abby blinks slowly- once, twice, three times. “Nothing.”

Ellie glowers at her but Abby doesn’t take the bait. Ellie huffs, laying back down and turning her back to her despite the fact that it means she’s laying on her stitches.

**Day 21**

Ellie can’t keep the question unanswered any longer.

“Do you regret it?”

Abby makes no motion to acknowledge that she heard her. She’s silent for so long that Ellie almost asks again, but she finally answers when Ellie opens her mouth.

“No.”

Ellie didn't expect differently, but she still hoped, however useless it was, that she did, that she _made_ her regret it.

“Do you?” Abby asks, voice betraying no emotion.

Ellie blinks at the question. Does she? Abby killed Joel. She killed Jesse. The kid fucked up Tommy’s leg. 

“... some of it.” She regrets that that woman was pregnant, she regrets that she brought Dina and Jesse into the mess, but she doesn't regret making Abby hurt like she hurt her. 

Abby nods slowly.

“Okay.”

“... Okay.”

**Day 25**

They’ve made an uneasy kind of peace. At least, Ellie has, Abby isn't acting any differently.

Ellie leans heavily against the wall behind her sleeping bag, her legs trembling with exertion. Fucking Rattlers, running them until they drop. There's literally no reason for them to do that aside from being cruel.

Fuck, she’s thirsty.

Ellie trudges towards the molded spigot on the far wall of the cell that never seems to stop dripping. It’s the only real source of water in the cell, and she'll take it, even if it means drinking with her hand like she’s no better than a dog. She’s not going to die of dehydration for her pride.

She hates it though, because to get there she has to pass by Abby’s sleeping bag, and she’d really rather not. Luckily, she’s not in it right now, she’s playing some sort of card game with the kid by the cell bars, but that doesn't stop her from tensing when she passes within ten feet of them.

As she passes her sleeping bag, however, she isn't paying attention to where she’s putting her feet and kicks something hard that's stuffed under the hood.

Confused, she kicks the hood up a little. She uncovers a small handgun, metal glinting in the lantern light. She freezes and feels her stomach jump to her throat. She quickly kicks the hood back over it, eyes darting around to make sure no one saw.

Abby did.

She’s staring at her, eyes wide, as if _daring_ her to say something. Ellie stares right back.

Abby slowly rises to her feet, the kid watching her, tense. Ellie squares her shoulders as Abby approaches, preparing for a confrontation.

“Don’t say shit,” Abby hisses, raising a shaking finger and pointing it at Ellie’s chest.

Ellie grits her teeth. “Or what?” She isn’t planning on turning her in, it’s not justice if some fucking Rattler kills her, but she wants to see what Abby will to do.

Fury _finally_ makes its appearance in Abby’s dark eyes. She seems to grapple for words. “Just… stay the _fuck_ away, okay?”

Ellie’s eyes flick down to the now hidden .45, weighing her options. “You trying to escape?”

Abby narrows her eyes. “... No.”

“Bullshit,” Ellie scoffs. “I’m not going to turn you in, okay? So how about we make this easier on both of us and... work together.” She almost chokes on that last part.

Abby regards her suspiciously.

“I’m pretty sure we’re the two most capable people here, and I’m sure neither of us are planning to stay here forever, so it would be better to coordinate our efforts,” Ellie says.

Abby crosses her arms. The kid- Lev, she reminds herself, creeps behind Abby, looking at Ellie with a mix of curiosity and suspicion. 

“And how do we know you won’t just betray us and leave us to die?” Lev asks.

Ellie shrugs. “You don’t, but if my word means anything I swear I won't.” _It would be too kind a death, anyway._

“It doesn't,” Abby says gruffly.

“I didn't think so.”

**Day 28**

“We came in contact with the fireflies- what's left of them, anyway.”

Ellie’s head whips up to look at Abby. “What?”

“They said they’re about 200 strong now. Lev and I were going to join them- but I don't imagine that you’d want to.”

Ellie furrows her brows, looking down at her hands. Does she want to?

She doesn't know.

**Day 32**

“Fucking bitch,” the guard sneers, kicking her in the stomach.

She doubles over, but before she can get her legs under her a foot is pressing between her shoulder blades, forcing her back to the ground.

She barely refrains from growling at him, digging her nails into the dirt.

“Don’t like it when your _slaves_ talk back to you, huh?” she forces out through gasping breaths, smiling humorlessly.

The guards spits on her. The spittle lands on her cheek, and she wrinkles her nose as it begins to drip. He did _not_ just do that.

She inches her hand down towards her side-pocket to where she's taken to keeping the sharpened rock. You’d be surprised at how lax their security can be at times- it’s pathetic, really.

The guard is gloating about something above her, but she tunes him out, slowly palming the rock, staring at the man’s foot, inches away from her face.

He leans down. “You ain't ever getting out of here, _bitch-_ ”

She swings her arm up, driving the sharp end of the rock underneath his ankle bone.

He howls and she shakes his foot from her back, sending him tumbling to the packed dirt. She dives for the revolver tucked in his waistband, ignoring her screaming sides.

She flips the safety off, but before she can send a bullet between his eyes, she’s grabbed around the middle and lifted off her feet. She snarls at her captor, scratching at his arms, but he’s much bigger and stronger than her and his grip doesn't loosen.

The guard manhandles her through the doorway leading to the cells only a few meters away. She kicks her feet, trying to dislodge him, but his grip only tightens, forcing the air from her lungs. The cell comes into view and the other prisoners are looking at her with raised eyebrows. She briefly sees Abby watching her with a blank expression. She half hopes she’ll take out the gun and shoot these bastards but she knows that’s asking too much, she doesn’t owe her anything.

Ellie whips her head back straight into the guard’s nose and he stumbled backwards, a hand flying up to his face. She bites his finger when it gets too close to her mouth and he shrieks rather girlishly. She digs her teeth deeper, tasting the blood and hearing a wet _crack_ , and he frantically pushes her away.

Free, Ellie drives her fist firmly into his sternum. He chokes on a breath, falling back, and she crouches to feel around in his pockets, not wanting to waste any time- that wasn’t exactly quiet, others are sure to be on their way. Finally finding the keys, the excited, raised voices of the other prisoners greet her ears as she fumbles with it. Suddenly, pounding footsteps sound down the hall, and in a moment’s decision, she drops the keyring and kicks it into the cell, and not a second too soon as she is quickly tackled to the ground.

Her leg bends painfully as she’s forced down and her chin hits the ground _hard,_ causing black spots to appear in front of her eyes.

“Fuck it, take her to the pillars,” a woman says above her.

“Hell no, kill her right here!” The man whose finger she bit squeaks.

“You really want to let her get off that easy?”

Ellie almost snorts. How ironic.

The man grumbles but begrudgingly agrees, but not before sending a foot flying into her ribs.

She tries to regain her breath as they roughly haul her to her feet, the barrel of a gun pressed against the back of her neck. She allows them to lead her out, but darts her eyes to the side, relieved when she sees that someone has hidden the keys.

She’s not entirely sure what ‘the pillars’ are, but it’s been mentioned in passing with enough _disdain_ that she’s gathered it’s not good, not that she expected any less.

They drag her down the steps and to the beach, and she finally sees what exactly the pillars are. People, who look dead or close to it, hanging by their hands high on tall, wooden- well, _pillars_ , tiny platforms for them to stand on.

She thrashes harders, but the butt of a rifle comes down on her head, sending her to the ground, a stabbing pain erupting behind her eyes. They let her drop to the ground, and she weakly tries to get her hands under her, spitting out grains sand. Something warm drips over her brow and she blinks her eyes free of the blood. They must’ve hit her harder than she thought.

She hears voices behind her, but she doesn't have the mind to listen, too wrapped up in trying to jerk her hands back from whoever has grabbed them and pinches her wrist together so tightly that she can feel the bones grind.

“Get the fuck offa me!” She shouts, managing to slip a hand free, swinging for the bastard's face. He easily doges it, looping a noose around her wrists and tightening it. The rope rubs against the sensitive skin of her wrists, and she gets to her knees, trying to yank her hands free.

Suddenly, she’s roughly lifted from the ground and hauled into the air by her wrists. She swings wildly, kicking feet met with nothing but air. Someone laughs under her. With another jerk of the rope, one of the guards lifts her to the maximum height and her back hits the pole painfully, splinters digging into her skin. She scrabbles for a foothold for one heart-stopping second, shoulders threatening to pull out of her sockets before she finds the tiny ledge where she can stand on her toes. Every brush of the wind threatens to topple her.

“Get me the fuck down!” She yells at them, but the guy who is apparently still mad about her biting him, discharges a shot, the bullet flying less than a foot from her head. Her mouth snaps shut against her will.

The woman punches him in the shoulder. “Chill out, I’ll be pissed if I hauled her all the way up there for nothing.”

“Pfft, you like it,” the man retorts. “Sick freak.”

“Oh, so now _I’m_ the sick freak…”

Ellie tunes them out, she really doesn't care. As far as she’s concerned, they’re both sick freaks. A seagull caws from above her, perched on the top of the pillar. She cranes her neck to look at it. It cocks it’s head.

“Fuck off,” she mutters.

Seagulls and crows pick at the dead or dying bodies of the other poor bastards who got stung up. She recognizes someone who got taken away only her second week here, cheeks sunken and head hanging limply as a crow picks at his exposed neck.

Eventually, the Rattlers leave, but not without hearing her well-placed comments about their respective mothers. The man spits a wad of spit at the foot of her pole before the woman is able to drag him away.

She tries to wiggle her way free from the restraints to no avail- she can’t even dislocate her thumbs from this angle. She blows the hair from her face, glaring at the grey, cloudy sky. At least she won’t get sunburned, not that that's anywhere near the top of her list of things she needs to worry about.

Ellie knows it would be too much to ask for anyone to come for her, so at least she was able to slip the other prisoners the keys, it’s up to them to use it now… even if it means she helped Abby escape. Whatever, it also means she helped Lucia. She likes her. If she gets out that's good enough.

Hopefully Dina isn't waiting for her. 

**Day 35**

She wakes from her stupor to the sound of gunshots. Distant ones. She lifts her head with no small amount of effort, squinting at the Rattler settlement. She can only see the top of the buildings, but there is an orange glow and rising smoke, and if that isn't enough, there's the steady pops of automatic gunfire permuting the air.

Ellie giggles deliriously to herself. Good. Those bastards got what they deserved.

Distant screams carry down to her with the wind and she hangs her head, smiling. Her legs tremble. They’re probably going to collapse under her soon.

She doesn't know how long she hangs there while the settlement burns, but she almost doesn't hear the crunch of sand over the fuzziness in her head.

Feet appear at the top of her vision and she narrows her eyes, lifting her head to see Abby standing under her, the kid not far behind. Abby palms a knife, flipping it over in her hand.

She stares at her for a long moment. “Hey,” Ellie finally rasps. _Fancy seeing you here._

Abby huffs air out of her nose, rounding the pillar. The kid is clutching at his shoulder, red bubbling up from underneath his palm, but he isn't swaying, so she can only assume he’s alright, if a little pale. He blinks at her, eyes void of hostility.

The only warning she gets is the sound of a knife on rope before she’s sent falling to the ground. She lands flat on the sand with a grunt, the numbed pain in her swollen joints rearing its ugly head. Her arms tingle as blood returns to them, elbows aching from being held straight for so long. She shakily pushes herself onto hands, bringing two fingers up to brush against her brow; flaky blood is crusted onto her skin, but the split in her head finally clotted.

She stumbles to her feet, but the second she straightens she becomes lightheaded and her vision goes dark. She blinks the blackness from her eyes, and once they clear she finds the kid- Lev she reminds herself for what must be the tenth time, murmuring into Abby’s ear. She nods.

“There are boats this way,” Abby says, voice hardly louder than a mumble. It’s then that Ellie notices the shotgun strapped to her back.

Ellie shoots a look back at the burning buildings. She won't miss it. As Daniel said, fuck their potatoes.

Ellie makes a movement that's barely a nod, and Abby grunts and turns on her heels, leading them towards the ocean, a steadying hand on Lev’s back.

Ellie struggles to keep up, utterly _exhausted._ When she gets to a dirt ledge leading down to the beach that Abby steps up effortlessly, Ellie’s foot slips and she falls on her elbows.

“Fuck,” she breathes, touching her head. Abby stops, glancing back. She watches silently as Ellie tries to right herself, only to fall back down, head spinning and bruised ribs aching.

Abby’s feet once again appear in her vision, just much closer this time. Ellie looks up to find her holding out a hand. She eyes it, too tired to be suspicious, before slowly taking it, letting her haul her up.

Abby slings one of Ellie’s arms over her shoulders, still strong despite the weight she lost. Ellie lets her lead her down the beach without protest, Lev with a careful hand on his bow that he somehow procured in case anyone shows up, despite what looks to be a bullet wound in his shoulder.

Abby releases her to untie a small motorboat from a wooden post. The ocean water laps at Ellie's calves as she stands, a hand pressed to her side. She stares at the water, suddenly remembering how fucking _thirsty_ she is. Her tongue feels like dry cotton in her mouth and her breaths are shuddery and squeaky. Her throat has long-since stopped feeling like fire, now it just feels puffy every time she swallows.

“Come on,” Lev says, lightly touching her elbow and directing her towards the side of the boat. Ellie almost shrugs her arm away, this was the kid that made Tommy lame in one leg, but she doesn't.

She climbs into the boat, Lev soon after her, flinching as he jostles his shoulder. Abby yanks the pull-string of the motor, which wheezes to life, coughing out a plume of black smoke that quickly dissipates in the mist.

The silence is heavy, but not entirely uncomfortable, probably due more to the fact that none of them have the energy to do more than corporate, and not that there isn't any tension.

The boat lurches forward and the mansion quickly disappears behind them as they set off to wherever it is that they’re supposed to be.

**Author's Note:**

> I simp for Abby I'm so sorry.
> 
> Hopefully no one was too ooc, I don't have a super firm grasp on them yet. I may or may not write a follow-up, we'll see, but I make no promises.
> 
> This was originally supposed to be much longer, but I ended up losing about a third of the fic when my computer crashed and I was almost finished, so I kinda lost motivation, so hopefully this doesn't feel rushed. I'm not really sure what the point of this was tbh, but I wrote it anyway. Thanks for reading! I would love any feedback!


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